My last experience of a ‘Cinema Paradiso’ involved my close proximity to the ‘Cinema Paradiso’ in Ettalong, New South Wales, and possibly the worst blind date in the history of blind dates (excluding, perhaps, any that resulted in kidnapping or murder).

A couple of months ago, one of my oldest and dearest friends, Tracey, provided a detailed explanation of why she thinks I should go without TV for 2 months as one of my ‘Top 30 things to try before I’m 30’. Let’s just say it was a less than glowing report of my addiction to the idiot box. Specifically, my addiction to the long-running soapie, Australia’s beloved ‘Neighbours’.

Let’s ignore the fact that Neighbours is the longest running drama series in Australian television. Never mind that it’s nearly as old as I am, launching in 1985. Forget that it was at one time the most popular daytime television show in the UK (besides news bulletins). No, I must be the crazy one for enjoying it.

To be fair, it may be taking it one step to far to help the characters name their babies via posts on the ‘Neighbours’ Facebook wall… but they’re like family to me! I’ve even gone so far as to cast members of my family as various characters on the show, so now when something terrible happens to Karl it’s like it’s happening to my Dad, or when Lucas stacks his motorbike it’s Andy that’s taken a tumble, or when Toadie and Sonya have a fight it’s my older brother and his wife that are on the brink of despair.

Considering how much drama is packed into each nightly episode, you can begin to understand how it could quickly become a source of intense emotional distress for me.